Of Feathers and Stone Hearts
by Calculate Freedom
Summary: In the Enchanted Forest there are many fantastic tales to be told. Not all of them have happy endings. This is the story of a Prince, Swallow and a dark imp who only did as he was told. Let there be gold, sapphires, rubies and a broken heart - "she's quite mad." A retelling of Oscar Wilde's 'The Happy Prince'.
**A retelling of** **The Happy Prince** **by Oscar Wilde. I don't own it, or Once Upon A Time (the TV series).**

Once upon a time there was a town on the edge of a forest. It was a prosperous place with one very prosperous family – the Princes. Said to have once descended from debauched royalty, they were the richest in the town. They were also quite sombre. Despite the shady rumours and their stern nature, everyone respected them. After all, they were the Princes.

The Prince couple were blessed with a baby boy. However, there firstborn son was crippled. He could not nor would ever walk. Yet the Princes loved him dearly. As did the people of town for the young Prince seemed constantly happy. Always was he smiling when seen, darling joyful Ernest Prince. With the finest care money could buy Ernest lived his life from his wheelchair, from his second-story room, looking out on the town with a grin firmly in place. To those in the town he became known as the Happy Prince; the golden haired, sapphire eyed boy surveying his kingdom from a wheeled throne.

Ernest, the Happy Prince, was not truly happy. Every day he watched from his balcony the tragedy and suffering in the town. Though prosperous, there was poverty and misery there. Whilst the rich made merry beggars would plead for food or shelter, peasants worked themselves to the bone and the sick ailed. Every day Ernest grew sadder but he kept a smile on his face in hopes to bring cheer to those around him.

The Happy Prince was not the only story to be told. There was also life within the forest. The bird tribe, named so for the wings they could sprout from their backs, resided in the trees. The town and the bird tribe were at peace. They left each other be. Part of the bird tribe was a young girl called Swallow. Her real name was known only to her parents and her.

One day Swallow met another child in the forest who called herself Reed. Reed was fully human and lived in the town. Curious about the town, Swallow followed the girl to her house. There she saw and heard many strange things, none stranger than the golden boy sitting on a balcony at the far end of town, smiling but tears rolling down his cheeks. None of the townsfolk seemed to see the tears, commenting to each other about the "Happy Prince". Swallow released her wings away from sight and discretely flew up to the balcony.

"Hello," she chirped like the swallow she was named for. "Why are you crying?"

The boy looked up from his fancy chair at Swallow and gasped in astonishment. Before him was a girl with brown skin, bright eyes, and short midnight blue hair. She was dressed in a light yellow dress, her red undershirt poking out the neckline, and a vest with a long tail that matched her hair in colour. Most shocking was the bird wings coming from her back. Ernest knew of the bird tribe but he had never seen one, not with their wings spread like that. He quickly composed himself, wiping the tears away and flashing his grin. "You are a bird person," he observed.

"Yes, they call me Swallow," she told him. "Why are you crying, Mister Happy Prince the human?"

Intrigued as he was with Swallow, Ernest explained his plight. "I want to help the people but I cannot."

"Why can't you?" Swallow asked.

"I cannot walk," he replied grimly, "and my parents do not listen to me." Swallow cocked her head, inspecting the Happy Prince's legs. His legs looked ordinary. In fact she was unimpressed with his appearance overall. For all his golden hair and sparkling blue eyes he had large, thick glasses on, like the owlish Ms Miranda who blamed it on her eight children. Though his clothes were fine they were simple. Just another human.

"Then what are you to do?" she queried at last. Ernest's smile became wider as he was struck with an idea.

"You can walk. You can fly!" he cried. "Could you help me?" Though uncertain, in the end it was his tears that convinced her. He showed her through his telescope an old woman labouring over her sewing, while in the window over from her a young boy coughed and spluttered. "I heard our maids talking about it. He is ailing and his mother cannot afford medicine, no matter how hard she works. She can only give him water. Please Swallow, give them this." Ernest wheeled into his bedroom and retrieved a small trinket box. "She can sell it and afford what they need."

Swallow nodded, without a thought of keeping the treasure for herself. With a promise to return soon, she delivered the box under the cover of night. When she arrived home she received a scolding for her reckless behaviour. It was worth it to see the hardworking mother's face light up and the feverish boy cooled under the beating of her wings.

A few weeks later Swallow flew to the balcony the Happy Prince sat. This time he wore a patch over his eye underneath his glasses. Past his smile he looked sadder than ever. "Hello. Why do you hide your eye?" Swallow asked in her typical way of greeting.

"I have gone blind in my right eye," Ernest responded. "They say I will go blind in my left next." Never did the Happy Prince's smile falter. Again he asked Swallow to give a useless but expensive object to another suffering person. She complied and thus a pattern was born. Swallow would visit at least once a month and would talk with Ernest. After a while, Ernest would give Swallow something to pass on to the poorest and most in need. Once the sky went dark she would deliver the object and fly back to her home in the forest.

The New Year came and went and Ernest became completely blind. Swallow perched on his balcony and there was the Happy Prince, without glasses and eyes wrapped in cloth. "Hello. Where are your glasses?" Swallow said. The Happy Prince's smile faded.

"I don't need them anymore." He removed the cover and Swallow saw the sapphires in his eyes were gone. The Happy Prince was unseeing. Despite what Ernest thought would happen, Swallow did not leave in disgust or pity him. They talked as normal, though he had nothing to give to the peasants and the needy. She flew away with the promise of returning and Ernest felt more than the blind, lame, cheerful boy. He had a friend and so his smile came back.

Without his sight it was more difficult to find those that needed help but nonetheless Ernest smuggled food and other trifles for Swallow to give. Swallow found without help beggars and urchins to deliver these presents to. The town believed it had a guardian angel.

Many years passed and eventually grandfather Prince figured out someone was stealing from the household. It did not cross his mind it was his own grandson. Under his order the house would be watched for any intruders. When Swallow landed on Ernest's balcony he was frantic. "Swallow, you must leave! My grandfather knows someone has been stealing from us! If you are seen you will be blamed! You must never come back," he whispered, tears pooling in his blind eyes.

"Ernest…"

"Please go," he demanded, his smile vanished.

"I will, Happy Prince," she replied, voice thick with restrained sobs. Before she left, Ernest groped for her hand and in it placed a rock the size of a baby's fist. Swallow peered at the gift, expecting to deliver one last thing. It was a smooth, dark grey pebble shaped like a heart with a crack down the middle. Inside the little stone, like a secret, was mother of pearl sheen. "I found it on a picnic by the river when I was young," he told her. "It brought me comfort. I used to look at the white shining out of the rock heart and it would remind me that there is good in everything." That made sense to Swallow. Someone else could hold the heart and find hope where there was none. Ernest interrupted this train of thought. "I want you to have it. Something not to be given away. Yours."

Ernest offered her a smile and though weak and watery it was as true as their friendship. Swallow clutched the pebble close, determined to give something back. She did the only thing she could think of – she plucked a loose feather from her wing. "Thank you," Swallow handed the feather to Ernest, a slight tremor in her voice. "It's one of my feathers," she explained. "For you to keep."

With that, Swallow pecked his cheek, spread her wings and left. She scrubbed the tears that fell away but they kept coming. Ernest was not just another human.

The Happy Prince lost his smile that night, she took it with the heart. The townspeople, his own family, believed that his illness had finally caught up with him. The Happy Prince was no more. He was just another sombre Prince.

His parents and grandfather worried that he had taken a turn for the worse. Ernest grew listless and pale, unresponsive. They sent the best doctors they could afford to examine him. No matter what medicines were prescribed, what remedies procured, what miracle cures administered he did not get better.

Around this time the town entered a harsh, cold winter. A plague of sickness fettered throughout the town, wasting away those it hit. The townsfolk and the Princes became increasingly desperate, enough to call on one of the most feared in the lands – the Dark One. The Dark One was a powerful sorcerer, able to rid disease with a snap of his fingers. But all magic comes with a price and the price to pay with the Dark One was always high. Only the foolish and the incredibly desperate made deals with him. By that point, the town was both.

The Town Council, including grandfather Prince and led by the Mayor, decided to summon the Dark One that evening. To summon the Dark One you need only speak his name. "Rumpelstiltskin," the Mayor announced, sweating and slightly weak-kneed though he tried to look brave. A puff of smoke spiralled out of nowhere, clearing away to reveal the notorious Dark One, with skin of greenish-gold and an impish grin.

"Why, good morrow simple townsfolk. It is I, Rumpelstiltskin," the Dark One bowed exaggeratedly. "You called?"

"Y-yes," the Mayor squeaked. His face went puce and he cleared his throat. "Um, yes. Yes we did. We have a proble-"

"Of course, of course," the Dark One interrupted, flapping his hands as though to swat away the annoyance. "There is a plague, people are dying, you are desperate, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. The question is, what do you want me to do?"

"We want you to cure the sick!" the Mayor spluttered, puffing his chest. "Bring health to the town!"

"Now that we have that cleared up – technicalities, you understand," the Mayor did most certainly not understand but the Dark One continued on undeterred, "we can sort out the cost. Surely you know, all magic comes with a price!" he chimed. "But I am benevolent," he burst into giggles upon saying this, like the very concept was hilarious. "The charge isn't too large, no. It is merely a single sacrifice."

The Town Council immediately broke out into protest. The Dark One cut them off. "Tick-tock, dearies, tick-tock! I am on a schedule here and since you lot will argue about it until my magic disappears I will choose the sacrifice. Simple. It is _you_ who needs _me_ after all." The Dark One clapped his hands and pretended to mull it over. "Who to choose, who to choose," he murmured, taking delight in the frightened whispers of the Council. "Oh, I know! The youngest Prince!"

Grandfather Prince disagreed vehemently while the rest of them breathed quiet sighs of relief. The Dark One cackled at the fickle, cruel nature of people. And they called _him_ the Dark One! "Now, now dearie. I never said anything about killing him," he assured the old man. "I said sacrifice. He will not be harmed in the slightest. Cured, even! Trust me. What do I have to gain from killing a young lad?"

Trusting the Dark One was the height of stupidity. But grandfather Prince's dissent had softened for the moment and that was enough for the Mayor. "We agree!" he cried. "We agree to your deal!"

"Hold on now!" grandfather Prince snapped. It was too late.

"Then the deal is done," the Dark One declared. "Let's go fetch me a Prince." Grandfather Prince lunged forward to grab him but by then the Dark One was already gone.

The Dark One crossed the threshold of the Princes' large, grand house, nothing compared to his castle, with easy confidence. His sharklike smile widened when a maid saw him and shrieked. Go on and fuss, it was amusing to the Dark One. He walked in the young Prince's bedroom unhindered. Ernest sat in his wheelchair, thin and staring at nothing whilst twirling a dark blue feather between his fingers.

The Princes, alerted to the stranger's presence by the startled maid, ran to their son's room. Once they barrelled in all that was left of their boy was a smiling golden statue standing tall, with sparkling blue sapphires for eyes and a glowing red ruby in the hilt of the magnificent sword he held. His wheelchair was discarded and on the floor lay a bird girl. Her wings were bent and broken, tears pouring down her face.

"The price has been paid," the Dark One informed the horrified couple. "Those sick will be cured and health will reign in this town until the Happy Prince is dull and grey. Be glad Princes! Your son will live forever, happy and healthy! Just as you wanted."

They could not move for their dread and guilt. The Dark One waltzed past, impish grin leaving for a second. "I found the terrible little thief," he spat, jabbing a finger at Swallow on the ornate rug. "Brat had the lad's heart and got herself magically bonded to it! I wouldn't take it back, she's quite mad," he giggled, punctuating his own madness. "Wouldn't be the best idea to kill her either. But enact whatever punishment you see fit. Good day Princes. I would tell you to take care of yourselves but I've already done it for you!"

Rumpelstiltskin, the villainous Dark One, walked away with a feather twirling between his scaly fingers. The idiots would mourn, curse his name, beg for their son back, despair and beg some more. It did not matter to him. He got what he needed.

"You monster!" screamed the mother at the Dark One's back, kneeling at her son's feet.

"Oh no, dearie," the Dark One quipped, turning to face the couple and shaking his head. "I've seen what you two did to your son. You never listened to him. You never paid him enough attention. You locked him away. You never saw how unhappy he was. You took away the only thing he loved. I was only doing what was asked of me. It's _you_ who are the monsters." The mother wailed as the Dark One left with a smirk. They deserved their fate.

 **~THE PRINCE'S HEART~**

Years later rumours of a Curse, one that would take away everyone's happy endings, spread throughout the land. The bird tribe was far more intelligent than humans gave them credit for. Together they flew away, crossing dimensions to arrive in Wonderland, completely avoiding the Curse. The townsfolk panicked. With the Happy Prince watching over them no one got sick and the ill found themselves better in mere days. The town was enjoying its good fortune. The people did not want it taken away.

Months went by and the townsfolk began to relax. The Evil Queen had been lying, they told themselves. There will be no Curse. How wrong the townsfolk were.

The Curse came rolling over the land, billowing and writhing. It ate the Enchanted Forest with its power, dragging them away to another land. A land where there are no happy endings. Swallow lay in her prison cell, holding the broken stone heart. Her beautiful wings had been absorbed into her skin since that day the Dark One came, present only as tattoos on her back. Swallow knew of the Curse, felt it coming in her tingling shoulder blades. She did not care. She had no happy ending to take away.

While the townsfolk scurried around like ants trying to run from the Curse, the Happy Prince stood tall. When the dark cloud of the Curse swept towards the town, the Happy Prince gleamed golden, sapphire eyes and ruby sword sparkling. When the Curse swallowed the town – the sombre, grieving Princes; the terrified, pink-faced Mayor; the broken, mad bird girl – the Happy Prince smiled on. As the purple smoke engulfed the Happy Prince his sapphire eyes blinked. Then he, the townsfolk and Swallow were gone.

 **Storybrooke General Hospital**

 **Storybrooke, Maine**

In the psychiatric ward a lay girl with hair so black it was almost blue, dressed in sad, dull clothes that hung off her thin frame. She could not be more than twenty years old but she looked much older, dead. Blankly, she gazed at a small heart-shaped pebble, cracked down the middle.

Long ago, the staff had tried to take it from her. It was a mistake. The moment it had left her, spirited away in the night, she began screaming. She slammed into walls, beat the floor and clawed at her skin howling for the rock. Her shrieks for the "Prince's heart" could not be ignored. It was decided it was best if she kept the thing. Her obsession with it was unhealthy but at least she was calm; eating, drinking and sleeping voluntarily. She did as she was told, though in a zombie-like fashion. She hardly talked, the mental patient. All day and night she would stare at the stone unless told otherwise. She was unresponsive to drugs, therapy did not work. She was unfixable.

Under the cover of dark she stroked the heart lovingly, whispering the words of a song half-forgotten. "Sapphire eyes, and skin of gold. The Prince stands tall, and never old. He helps the sick, and aides the poor. The dear Prince smiles, forevermore."

Far away, in the forest alongside Storybrooke, a statue rested on a lush, grand tree. Vines snaked up its body, grey and shabby. There was two holes where his eyes should be and a crack along his chest, yet the statue had a smile in place. The Happy Prince had been there for many years and would remain there for many more.

 **A/N: I honestly have no idea how this happened. I was sitting there and BOOM! Somehow this ridiculously long one shot popped up. I intended it to simply be a retelling of a sad but sweet fairy tale but then Rumpelstiltskin showed up. The imp. (Oh man, I LOVE him!) Yeah, it's depressing. About 90 percent of what I write is. If anyone explicitly asks for it to continue I probably will but otherwise, that's it. Sorry about any mistakes or plain not making sense. I was sick the entire duration of writing this, so... uhh.**

 **Review to stop viruses taking over the world and for Rrrrumpelstiltskin! -does weird Rumply hand gestures and giggles like a demented child-**

 **Wow, I really am sick. BYE!**


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